Page 5 of Madly Deeply

"I'll come along, if ye like. Though I suspect my friend would prefer ye speak to the living for a change."

"You think I should start...moving on?" Her voice cracked.

His ghostly form turned away from the pattering at the glass. "No, love. I think ye should start living again. There's a difference."

She nodded slowly and typed her reply to Wyndham, accepting the invitation. She suddenly remembered their conversation from the night before. "You said you didn't show yourself for many reasons. Besides making me think I was going crazy, what else were you talking about?"

"Auch, weel..." He shrugged a shoulder and she knew from experience he was about to distract her so he didn't have to answer. As a seer, he’d sometimes started to tell her things and realized it was something he should keep to himself. The way he usually distracted her was rather physical however, and unfortunately, that was no longer an option.

"Spreag?"

He seemed to realize the same thing and gave in with a violent sigh. "It would have been cruel to show myself...only to cost us a second farewell."

She felt the blood drain from her face and her head began to shake without her intention. "No. No. We're not even going to talk about that, 'kay?" She bounced off the bed and headed to the bathroom. "Two things on the schedule. Ghost physics and dinner at Wyndham's. That's it. Lollypops and puppy dogs? Negativity is taking the day off. Got it?" She peeked back out to get his agreement.

"Got it."

CHAPTER FOUR

Alexandra hadn't bothered with restaurants since the funeral. But now, watching other diners through the front window of His Lairdship’s Hearth, she remembered what it was like to be hungry. The aroma of fresh-baked bread drifted out each time someone opened the heavy wooden door.

"I like the look of it," Spreag said, standing beside her on the cobblestones. "Reminds me of a public house in Firth, back in the eighteenth century."

"Did you eat there often?"

"Once. Got into a brawl over the last meat pie. Someone landed in the fire. Cannae recall which of us." His eyes crinkled. "Go on in, lass. Ye need a proper meal."

The hostess seated her at a corner table with a view of both the street and the stone fireplace. A red-cheeked server appeared with a menu and water.

"Just one today?" she asked with a sympathetic smile.

Alexandra glanced at Spreag, who'd positioned himself in the empty chair across from her. "Just me."

After the server left, she opened the menu. "I completely spaced how weird this would be. People are going to think I'm talking to myself."

"Then don't talk. I can read yer thoughts well enough."

She lowered the menu. "You can?"

"Nay." He grinned. "But wouldn't that be convenient?"

The server returned and Alex ordered without looking at the menu again. "I'll have a meat pie." It seemed fitting.

"Cottage or Shepherd's?"

"Cottage."

The woman nodded and took her menu away.

"So," she said quietly when they were alone. "About tonight's dinner..."

"I told ye, I won't be showing myself." Spreag leaned forward, his form wavering slightly in the sunlight streaming through the window. "And not just because explanations would be awkward."

"You mean you actually can't?"

He shook his head. The movement caused his edges to blur. "Takes most of my energy just appearing to you. More than I expected, truth be told. I must constantly will it, ye ken.”

His voice faded as a family walked past their table. When they'd gone, Alex whispered, "I’m grateful, my love, if you couldn’t tell.”

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